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Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Hair Today and Gone Tomorrow

Went down to London for the weekend for my friend's daughter's 18th birthday party. It was full of beauteous teens looking amazing, oozing confidence and talking about which university they were going to. Life spread out at their prettily-varnished feet. I used to be like that. Not now though.

Right now, my life is in a bit of a mess and I couldn't fit into the oyster-coloured silk frock I brought down for the party because it gathered in accusing wrinkles over my hips and stomach. The accusation they leveled ran along the lines of "You got fat mate". Even worse, I had a haircut the day before and much as I love my hairdresser, it doesn't do it for me.

The last haircut he gave me was the best I'd ever had, it shaved off 10 years and looked sexy. Everybody who saw it said it was great. I sat in the chair and reminded him what he did and asked for the same. He shook his head. "We'll do something different," he said. I shook my head. No - I wanted the same thing. It had been the best haircut ever. I'd looked young again. I wanted the same. He shook his head again. "We'll go shorter this time." I should have written it in blood on his mirror "I want what I had before". I didn't get it. You always know when you have a bad haircut because you can't look at your face in the mirror, you just look at the hair around your face, and while you're saying primly "Thankyou that's great", inside your head you're screaming "Buggering bollox." That was me. It's not the haircut per se, the cut is as sharp as ever. It's the fact, he's taken off so much, there is nowhere for my jowls to hide. Also, the cut's razored and after blow-drying I look like I'm wearing Liz Taylor's hair. Not Liz Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Liz Taylor in the wheelchair with the bad back trying to be brave and very very bouffant. I tried curling it a bit and instead of Liz, I began to shape-shift into my favorite dolly Rosemary who talked when you pulled a string and asked you to tea and is now a one-legged bath toy and hasn't said much in a while.

After the haircut, I went out to dinner with my best gay boyfriend and his partner."I've had a haircut," I said. He looked at me dubiously. "Perhaps if you did something with the fringe? " he offered.

I intend to shoot the children's guinea-pigs and make a hat. Needs must. I'll explain. "Look at me," I'll say.

41 comments:

I just had the same thing happen to me!! What is so hard for a stylist to understand that you want it just "shaped up and to stay the same?" I guess we just aren't we speaking the same language! At least it grows...eventually...

How annoying are hairdressers? I finally found one I really like and she's just informed me she's off on maternity leave for months on end - how selfish is that? You have my sympathies. On the Liz Taylor front, 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof' is my absolute favourite film and I agree her hair is fab in it. Paul Newman's pretty fab too...

I've just had my hair cut very short! It was scary but also a bit of a strange and impulsive move as I lost my hair totally 18 months ago when I had chemotherapy. I've spent the past year and a half growing it (all curly and wierd) and just as it was getting long enough to tie back, I've got rid of it all. Everyone's a bit surprised, myself most of all - there must be some deep psychological significance. Fighting off the middle age which is settling upon me? Now, I might look as if mt twenties are but a distant memory but at least I'm embracing it all with style....or something. I'm sure you look great - step away from the guinea pigs!!

poor you, a bad haircut, an unforgiving dress, and all those young things that used to be chubby kids sudenly morphing into slender self-possessed 18 yr olds, sigh....i know how it feels...not to worry, spring is coming, and things will get better!I really enjoy your blogg,keep on writing...liz

I got a HORRIBLE haircut yesterday and have been wanting to cut my head off - I finally called my girl and insisted that she make time for me tomorrow to fix this mess. There are worse things in life I'm sure - but a bad haircut can make one forget about them.

You make me LAUGH out loud and maybe not hate my haircut so much - but I'm still making her fix it.

Sorry to hear about the haircut. I have a very short crop and make no attempt to 'style' it in any way. Very lazy I realise, but I wouldn't know where to begin - don't even own a comb these days. My walky-talky doll was called Jeany Janey Jenny and said "Can we go shopping, Mummy?" when you pulled her string. She said a whole load of things once upon a time 'though her walking was never up to much. Now she sits silent and neglected in the playroom but my girls ask the very same question.

I had my colour done recently, tinted but no highlights as suggested because she said getting too blonde... I said oh yes, lovely thanks. But really meant, I look bloody strawberry blonde now and should have just gone with the extra highlights.

Comments from my friends... "Bit ginger this time..." and "prefer the sex and city brassy..."

I know exactly how you feel! Everyone I know who has a bob looks stunning. I have a bob (two days before last Saturday's presentation dinner) and I look like Percy from Blackadder. You can't win, can you?

I had the great haircut, then "the same thing" from a different stylist when mine was sick. Disaster. Hated it for three months. Just had another cut by my guy. Signs look good but it has yet to pass the "first shampoo" test.

My hairdresser talks so much, she forgets she is doing my hair and chops off more than I asked her to do. I never end up getting what I asked for!!! It must come as part of their training to ignore the customer.

I've had the same guy for about 20 years. He usually really does well at understanding me. Luckily, I had hubby take front and rear pictures of a really GOOD cut. Two years ago, Carmen started giving me "off" cuts. They just didn't look right. So I took in the pictures and told him essentially "do this or I'm not paying"! Ever since -- great cuts and a nice friendship! "The camera doesn't lie" is usually a negative comment. In this case, it did the job!

I take photos after EVERY cut to compare them (mainly because I live in France and it's easiest to just point to what he did before - far easier than trying to describe a cut in franglais) and it's funny to look back and see how what you *think* is the same, actually isn't at all! WHY can't they do it the same??! I do sympathise Wife, haircuts make you feel either wretched or beautiful.

I am so, so very happy to be able to read you again on the blog and to hear that you're in the process of another book. Please don't give up - have faith. I adore your voice/style. You owe it to us if not yourself!

I empathize. I had highlights redone. I expressely said, 'I don't want to be too blonde; i want to look as it they are natural'. (isn't that the point of highlights?). I didn't just look too blonde: i looked like a yellow beacon from as far away as Mars. I glowed. but - naturallly - because I'm British, i stiffened that lip and - just like you - i said, 'thank you; that's great'. And then i went home and sobbed! and my youngest said, 'it's not THAT bad, mama ... just your fringe'.

Just why do hairdressers to that!? It's so infuriating, don't they realise we rely on them to hide all those jiggly, creased bits? It's all very well them thinking "ooh, let's have a go at something different" - don't they realise how a good or unflattering haircut can be a thumbs up or down on your entire life until it grows out?

And why won't they do what we want, and when did "just a slight trim" translate itself to "chop the bloody lot off?"

The only advice I can give is to use more slap and get yourself a polo neck sweater for the next six weeks, then change hairdressers or threaten your old one with something sharp and pointy unless he does what you want.

I live in mortal fear of the hairdresser. They don't speak the same language as the rest of us. You have jowls? I have face fattage. So I need the spaniels-ears-at-side-of-head look to hide behind. I feel your pain, sistah. They're evil, the lot of them.

A good haircut does wonders for our self esteem. Is there another hairdresser you can go to? I can recommend the Aveda salon at Covent Garden (although I think it may have moved now). Christophe (if he is still there) is a marvellous hairdresser.

You could try wigs...until the cut has grown out a bit but I'm sure you wouldn't need that. (I'm sure your current cut is fine.)

A couple of years ago I wrote some waspish comments on your blog and I have always regretted that I did that. I've realised that we all need the support and encouragement we can get from all quarters!

My daughter recently had a bad haircut too. As she put it later -how does 'I want to look like Alexa Cheung' translate into 'I want to look like the love child of Paul McCartney and Thelma from Scoobydoo?'

So true about the hairdresser's mirror! I tend to stick to the same hairstyle out of fear of what they will do. However, I did have highlights recently and they are brilliant so perhaps I'll overcome my phobia a bit. xx

Hi, I got to your blog from Holly Becker's and the article that you were both in in Myself Magazine in Germany. Love you writing style and I will have to snag a copy of your book! This description of your hair has happened to me so many times -- but it happened more in Germany than ANYWHERE else while I lived there. Like they knew better. HA! Now I defy anyone to tell me how my hair should be. OK, it's not that great right now but it's MY not that great so I am totally ok with it.

Stuff the oyster satin (sorry, couldn't resist. No, I know it's not funny. Yes, I'll slap my own wrist ;-)). Time to acquire something new (-ish/swap/charity shop, etc). Do sympathise re the hair, although as several of your nice commenters point out, even the most disastrous chopped mops do grow out. The top stylist @ local salon here went doolally after childbirth, and wreaked havoc on clientele's respective barnets (mine included). After that she abruptly disappeared, leaving us wondering if cat-eyed glamour boy, Eric-le-patron, adhered to local custom and did the concrete-boots-heave-splash routine with her over in the Port. Qu sa? More power to your writing/editing elbow with the novel, Wifey.

What a lovely surprise to find a recent post when I fell in here today.

There is summat about country life and bushy hair, bushy eyebrows and extra lbs.

I had an eyebrow shape on Saturday and am looking permanently startled. Oh well - perhaps at bridge on wednesday the opposition will think I have an outstanding hand - who knows it may well put them off their stroke.